


ceiling of gold

by streetlight_skeletons



Series: Voices [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Caring!Natasha, M/M, Panic Attack, Worried!Steve, voices
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-09
Updated: 2015-11-09
Packaged: 2018-04-30 21:29:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5180408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/streetlight_skeletons/pseuds/streetlight_skeletons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>But he never gets to finish because Bucky snaps.</p><p>He raises his left fist before he even knows what he's going to use it for, but his mind fills in the blanks for him as his arm swings towards Steve's face.</p><p> </p><p>It had started out a rough day, he really should have expected this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	ceiling of gold

**Author's Note:**

> Hello again!  
> It's been a while since I posted and after a few encouragements I got off my lazy ass and wrote this bomb shell.  
> I don't really know where it came from but I do realise it's probably one of the badly written pieces I've made..so be warned..  
> Hope you enjoy! :)

It had started out a rough day, he really should have expected this.

He woke from a nightmare, early enough to feel tired, but late enough he couldn't get back to sleep. He rises and goes through his day, all the time feeling like there's something under his skin that is out of place.

He's disoriented, for reasons he doesn't know. He's somewhat glad Steve is away with the team, he doesn't know if he could deal with the worried glances and the meaningful stares at his untouched plate of food. In fact, he doesn't even bother with breakfast, or lunch, for he simply feels full already; even though he missed dinner last night as well because Steve fell asleep early, not there to chasten him for his lack of eating.

He feels wound up, like a string that's pulled too tight. His left arm bothers him more today than on a usual day, and every time he catches a glimpse of it in his peripheral vision, a well of emotion that he can't explain starts to simmer in his chest.

He's restless, pacing before sitting down, then getting up to pace again after a few minutes. The cycle continues until Steve comes home, looking weary himself but in quite a good mood nonetheless.

And for some reason that pisses Bucky off.

He doesn't know what it is, he doesn't know why, but it does. And he knows that whatever comes out of Steve's mouth is going to annoy him.

"Good afternoon, Buck!" Steve beams, throwing his coat over the chair as he strides towards Bucky with a gleam in his eye and a unshakeable grin on his face.

He _throws his coat over the chair_. Bucky had spent an hour cleaning the living area in a desperate effort to keep his mind occupied and how _dare_ he just carelessly mess up Bucky's work.

Steve, oblivious of the fire starting to burn in Bucky's veins, begins to cheerfully ask, "How was your day-?"

But he never gets to finish because Bucky _snaps_.

He raises his left fist before he even knows what he's going to use it for, but his mind fills in the blanks for him as his arm swings towards Steve's face. Steve, shocked more than anything else, stays rooted as the knuckles of Bucky's metal hand collides with his face, knocking him back.

Steve stumbles back, more out of shock than the actual blow. Bucky does the same, shock colouring his face before he raises his left hand to gaze at it drunkenly.

He's storming away before Steve has time to right himself, already berating himself as his hands shake and his eyes start to well with tears.

_You knew it would happen.._

When Bucky's reaches it, he slams the door to his room as he hears Steve call after him, the older man's voice cracking halfway through as if he's holding himself back from crying. Bucky would know, as he's doing the same thing.

He feels horrible, like something is eating at his chest, and the wound up feeling he had earlier on has sprung open to reveal shaking hands and the jittery feeling of ants running through his veins.

_..the pits of hell run through your bloodstream...through your bones..-_

Bucky turns away from the door before a rush of self loathing and anger overtakes him. He swings around with an enraged roar and begins to punch the wall beside the door frame with both of his hands. His eyes are ablaze and the urge to rip them out terrifies him.

_-..you think you can hide from hell?_

And all this time, Steve knocks on the door repeatedly and begs with abandon. Bucky doesn't know what he's saying because he can't hear him; screams and silence and fire is blazing in his ears. He knows, Bucky knows that Steve would never come in or open the door uninvited and he's so _innocent_ and _naive_ and how long can Bucky stay here before he ruins that?

He is hyper aware of his left arm, and he stops punching the wall as his right hand aches and itches with the need to tear it out.

So he does.

He grips the panels of his metal arm and pulls, beginning to pant with desperation as his vision suddenly clouds with tears. He gasps and shudders, sobs he refuses to let out choking up his throat.

Coughing and spluttering, Bucky ignores the continuous pleas of Steve as he struggles to rip off the one piece of him that he hated above all the rest.

The emotional whiplash from anger to this leaves him leaving washed out, filled with nothing. He's just an empty space. He's ripped his heart out and laid it flat, for the whole world to see.

_But you don't have a heart, do you?_

Soon blood starts to flow, and his mind is slow to catch up as he finally realises it's from scratching at his arm. His fingers and his palm are spilt in multiple places, blood sluggishly pouring out.

_It's their blood, not yours_

He shakily inhales as his tears join the mix; it's not the first time he's bled and cried.

He doesn't know what's wrong with him, he never has, but he needs to fix it. The state he's living in isn't safe for himself, for anyone. He's balancing on the edge of a blade between insanity and happiness. He's dragged himself up from one side and he can't fall back down when he's so close to what he wants; to be happy.

Still, his mind battles with his body as he continues in his attempts to rip out the metal arm.

_You have everything!_

Bucky sobs harder as the voice returns. He doesn't know when the world fell apart but suddenly it's all he can see; the pain, the carnage.

_At night, you look up at a ceiling of gold..-_

"Bucky!" Steve shouts through the door, but said person only hears it distantly, as if Steve is at the other side of a forest screaming his name. Steve sounds like he's crying as well, and Bucky vaguely remembers how he never told him how his tears remind him of the ocean.

_..so why do you cry yourself to sleep?_

"Bucky?" Steve seems to have composed himself, using a forced calm voice, "I'm gonna come in, okay? You can't stay like this alone"

But Bucky doesn't want him to come in. He doesn't want to see the bruise he left, he doesn't want to see the wariness and distrust in Steve's eyes; as if he's dealing with a wild animal. He knows he wouldn't be able to deal if Steve looks at him like he was the Winter Soldier, not Bucky.

"No..no, no, no..." he murmurs to himself, sniffing as tears blind his vision once more.

There must have been a time shift, he thinks, for suddenly someone is touching his right shoulder, and it's not Steve; the hand is too soft and delicate. He immediately tenses, not having heard the door open or footsteps come near. He slowly raises his head, keeping his face straight in an attempt to look like he wasn't crying. It's useless, however, for he knows the tear tracks are still drying on his cheeks.

It's Natasha.

At seeing her face, Bucky whines embarrassingly and his face crumbles, swiftly turning his face away as she kneels down by his side.

"My friend?" Natasha whispers in Russian, beginning to gently rub her hand up and down Bucky's back. He unconsciously leans back into it, craving the touch, "What's wrong with you?"

Taking a deep breath, somewhat thankful that Natasha chose to speak in a language that Steve wouldn't understand, he turns to look into her eyes, " _I can't do it, Natasha.."_

"What can't you do?" Natasha murmurs in English, with a soft smile on her face, not unkind, simply reassuring. She shifts and pulls Bucky towards her so they both lie against the wall, Bucky curling into her side as she slowly pulls his bloody hand away from his arm.

Using the same language, Bucky closes his eyes. "I-I can't keep smiling even though I'm not happy..I can't keep pretending I'm okay when I'm not"

"Then don't," Natasha says quickly, but quietly. She rests her head upon Bucky's own. "Stop pretending, it's okay to need a little time for yourself. The world will keep spinning"

She takes Bucky's cut-up hand in both of hers and kisses it, taking no notice of the blood.

"The world will keep spinning"

* * *

It's two days later when they both finally emerge from Bucky's room, having had everything they needed brought to the door and left there.

Natasha pulls a reluctant Bucky out of the room, towards a worried looking Steve who is standing at the end of the hall with his hands twitching at his sides.

Bucky hides behind Natasha, an attempt to make himself seem smaller and unnoticeable, despite being the only person Steve has eyes for. He looks at the floor, pressed up tight against Natasha's back to hide his trembles. From the concerned looks Steve keeps flashing him, he's doing a terrible job at it.

Steve and Natasha seem to have a conversation with their eyes before Natasha moves away, giving Bucky an unusually tender kiss on the forehead. She's out the front door before Bucky has time to freak out.

Left alone, they take a glance at each other, Steve staring wide-eyed at Bucky's bandaged hand and the dents in the metal arm. Bucky, however, stares at the blossoming bruise on Steve's cheek, vaguely the size of his own fist.

It's Steve who ignites contact first, cautiously bringing Bucky in for a loose hug which he soon tightens as Bucky responds.

"I missed you," Steve whispers into his neck as Bucky brings his arms around him. Bucky feels the lump in his throat and the sting of tears as Steve continues, "I'm so sorry"

In return, Bucky whispers "I love you" onto Steve's tongue as they kiss and, judging by his smile, he heard him. The empty, achy feeling in Bucky's hollow chest ebbs slowly away.

A few days later, people start to notice the fire burning behind his eyes and Bucky never cries beneath his ceiling of gold again.

At least, not alone.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't really know what that ending was..
> 
> Please leave a kudo or comment if you liked it! x


End file.
